The Twelfth Prince
by thinkwinkink
Summary: A series of brief scenes following the conclusion of the film, where Hans returns to Arendelle and tries to win the trust of the Queen. (Helsa, Kristanna)
1. A Proposition

Hans jerked out of his light sleep at the pompous voice on the other side of the thick wooden door.

"Open it," it demanded, and keys jangled and banged against the bolt. He knew that voice; the accent and authority meant top tier of society, the smoothness meant one of his brothers. The intense arrogance narrowed the field by half, and the nasal, whiny quality told him it was either Albert or Harold. Before the guard opened the door, Hans sat up and tried to look untroubled. It was a token effort, really, since the dirt, threadbare clothes and skinniness rather offset his princely nonchalance as he posed in his dank cell. This was not the first visit from a brother over these past few months; a couple of distraught-family how-could-you-why-did-you encounters from the good eggs, a bit of gloating and some darker visits from the nastier of the princes. As had always been the case, showing genuine weakness was only ever going to make things worse, so he tried to minimize his pathetic appearance.

To his chagrin, the velvet-clad brunet who stood in the doorway was the eighth Prince of the Southern Isles, Harold. As arguably the most physically delicate of the brood, and definitely the most unco-ordinated, he had been the target for a fair few pranks and attacks over the years, even from the younger boys. Hans was fairly sure that had played a part in the formation of his malicious nature and poisonous self-interest. There was no doubt he was here for revenge now that he, who had always been faster and bigger and more charismatic, had no chance to fight back. At least this time he hadn't brought... friends.

Harold sneered at the filthy prisoner as he fussed with the abundance of brocade on his sleeve. "Well, don't you look cosy," he needled.

Hans feigned disinterest, but watched the volatile little man closely from the corner of his eye. He had more than a head's height advantage and broader frame but couldn't remember eating in the last two days. He felt weak at the idea of trying to fight off the gremlin.

Harold straightened, lifting his chin. "I come bearing news," he announced ominously. Whatever he had to say, he had devised it to hurt Hans. He ignored the comment.

"Come, come, brother. It pertains to our dear Benjamin," he taunted. Hans' head snapped to attention. Benjamin was the twelfth son, and expected to have been the last. The King and Queen had not expected identical twins.

Benjamin was the best of all thirteen princes; he had been born weaker and smaller than Hans, but with all the goodness and kindness, and enough to go a long way in making up for some of the others. Hans was physically gifted and cunning, but his favoured brother was smarter. He could master any topic or any trick in minutes. They made the perfect team, when his rigid morals or poor health weren't getting in the way.

The silence stretched on. Benjamin hadn't visited the prison since he had been locked up. Hans thought the shame or disappointment had made him finally turn his back on his slightly younger brother. But perhaps not.

"Ask me," Harold grinned. When there was no response, he stomped a foot like a child. "Ask me what's happened!"

Hans sighed at the dramatic display and ran a hand through his tangled red locks, far longer than they had ever been in his living memory.

"Fine. I suppose I'll just tell you, then. Benjamin's dead. Now get up, we're going to Father."

Devastation. That was the word. There was a ringing in his ears that blessedly drowned out whatever complaints Harold was making now. Benjamin... dead. What had happened? When? Ought not he have felt it, his twin passing? And without his influence, how much would the immoral and foolish of his brothers sway his father and Crown Prince Holger? Too much, and to the detriment of the nation and people.

He was vaguely aware he was being manhandled, forced out of the cells, through the labyrinth of the Guard House near the palace, then being shoved and dragged across the castle grounds, and into the building where he had lived until a year ago. The sunlight hurt his eyes, and the manacles they crammed on him before leaving the Guard House were tight enough to leave bruises. The air was fresh and scented with baking and flowers, and dry and warm, probably. Hans didn't take any of it in. He was still reeling. A small part of his mind noted with disgust the lack of distress Harold displayed for the passing of his gentle brother; if anything, he seemed to find it gratifying. Repugnant.

The pushing stopped, and with one final heave he was thrown to the floor. Dazed, he stayed there.

A female sob broke through the fog. His mother. Slowly rising to a crouch, Hans realised he was in the throne room. Each of his parents were seated on their thrones, looking distressed and holding hands. The Queen pressed a handkerchief to her face.

"I brought the traitor, as you asked. Shall I tell the executioner to prepare?" Harold piped up with thinly concealed glee. The only thing better than a brother dying was multiple brothers dying, apparently. His mother sobbed again.

"No, Harold. Thank you, son, but please leave us now," his father replied, his deep voice tempered by sadness and fatigue.

A guard removed the iron cuffs, before following his fellows out of the room. Harold lingered, but eventually stalked away, probably to wrestle a lolly from a baby or something. _Nearly an even match_ , Hans thought meanly, _but a baby is not likely willing to drown him to win that fight_. He wouldn't put that past Harold.

His mother swept out of her gilded perch and knelt before him, shocking him by lowering herself to his eye level, and apparently without fear or thought of crumpling the mass of black and purple silk that made the journey with her. She placed a hand on his grimy cheek, not recoiling at the unkempt beard that grew there.

Her teary eyes met his, and he saw in hers the motherly love that she rarely spared time to express. "Oh Hans, have you heard? Sweet, little Benjamin..." she whispered, voice shaking and cracking. Her fingers brushed gently against the side of his face, calling back a memory of being no more than waist height, enjoying the same attention but with a smile from his elegant beauty of a mother. He wondered how long it had been since someone had touched him with such gentle intent. He had no idea. Since he was a boy, surely.

"Hans," his father intoned, walking over and pulling his wife to her feet. Hans stood too. "You acted shamefully in Arendelle, breaking our laws and hers - one of our allies, our important trading partners! Not to mention basic good morals and sense. But you have never been a bad man, and never as... susceptible... as some of your own brothers. I believe that your regret is genuine, and offer you a chance."

Hans stared, wondering what this speech was leading to. The King was grave, and clearly something was going on. What this had to do with his brother's death remained to be seen, but he hoped he would be told soon enough. This sounded like he could be on the precipice of a serious improvement in quality of life, and he was willing to hold his tongue for the time being.

He nodded, and the grey-bearded king continued. "Despite, or perhaps due to, your actions last summer, there have been considerable diplomatic communications with the realm of Arendelle over this past year, to ameliorate the bruised relations between our countries. Not only on an ambassadorial level, but I toured there briefly in spring," he explained, earning a shocked expression from his son. But if anything was going to call for monarch-to-monarch apologies, it was a prince's attempt at regicide. And Queen Elsa had seemed much more even-tempered than her sister, so he was willing to believe she accepted his visit.

"I offered Her Majesty my country's and my own promise of aid and advice if she should ever need it, and she came to discuss an array of topics with me that can trouble a young queen. As you know, she is unmarried, and we agreed that it would be beneficial for her to marry, for her kingdom," the king continued, pausing at the blown-away expression on Hans' face. Given Anna's stance on romance, love and marriage, it seemed absurd that the Queen would agree to a purely pragmatic union. Although, he didn't know the full story, so there was no indication of a solely political arrangement.

Clearing his throat, the older man started up his narrative again. "I pledged my discreet aid in her search for an appropriate match once I returned. After a short time, I suggested one of my own sons - as I am certain, you would see the host of benefits for both kingdoms were such a match to occur. Benjamin, being the closest to Her Majesty in age, was whom we settled upon. He was to sail to Arendelle three days ago to meet with Queen Elsa and her advisors." Here, he stopped, let out a shaky breath and pulled the Queen closer to his side.

"We sent word two days ago that he would be briefly delayed by illness... A week ago, he was riding, and was unsaddled. The mount was spooked, and much of him was struck by the hooves... His health had never been good, and yesterday... He succumbed to..." he broke off. Hans looked away, swallowing thickly. The frail prince had loved to ride but hadn't stalked risk like Hans. To have been trampled by his own beloved horse was a cruel twist of fate.

It was yet to be explained how his second chance was to manifest, but he had an idea. In his starved state he was as thin as his identical twin.

"We cannot risk damaging our relations with Arendelle or her ruler any further," his mother said resolutely. "Our own citizens are able to tell you apart, but to those who had never met the other... They would never know what to look for."

His father looked at him sadly. "Benjamin was beloved of the people of the Southern Isles. You will not be missed now, cast off as you have been. We offer you the chance to go to Arendelle, but you must become your lost brother to do so. Letters you write, how you act and what you say must be what he would say and do. But a handful of people will ever know the switch that has occurred. Obviously, you cannot return to the gaze of your countrymen, for they must believe you are Benjamin. Perhaps in old age, when you are sufficiently changed..." his father allowed.

Hans wondered what was to be done with the battered body of his honourable brother. Likely it would be buried in place of his own so that if questions were asked they could show that Prince Hans was dead. Or maybe lain to rest in the family crypt in secret.

"Your father insists that you will take on this task with the honour worthy of your bloodline, and do your best to be a good son and husband. I want to believe it, as I did before. But you tried to kill that woman before; by all accounts she is a just and gentle beauty, and an intelligent ruler. Against whom you raised your sword. Diplomatic chaos aside, I could never forgive myself if we sent her murderer to her altar," she forced out, seeming to quail at her own words.

The dirty prince flinched. Murderer, he thought, the word sickening him. Almost true, I cannot deny it. "You may not believe me, but it is the truth. I truly was trying to do what was best for the people of Arendelle. Pretending to love the princess was perhaps unkind, but I had assumed that she was less naïve than she appeared and was seeking the advantages of a husband over love. As I saw it, my hand was forced. I am glad to have been wrong," he muttered. The moment that he had decided to bring cold steel onto the elegant neck of the heartbroken woman on the ice haunted him. Wondering what could have happened had he succeeded troubled him, which was perhaps a sign that the whole ordeal and imprisonment had done him good in some sense after all. While he thought he was never evil or cruel, self-interested and a bit devious were fair. Even if killing Queen Elsa would have ended the storm and artificial winter, he was glad for how things had turned out in the north. From what he had gathered in the trial and sentencing period before his incarceration, the kingdom was prospering and happy under their queen, and she herself was enjoying her duties.

His parents scrutinised him, both seeming to assess his heart. Hans swayed lightly; he hadn't had to stand for long in an age and hadn't eaten well in even longer. They must have seen something that convinced them, or been desperate enough to trade with Arendelle that they didn't set the bar very high. No murderous sneer was good enough.


	2. Arrival

Three weeks later, Hans tugged gently at the sleeves of his uniform. Well, the uniform he wore. His own would have hung awkwardly off his bony frame, and sported the wrong set of honours. To his silent horror, almost all of the clothes he had brought were taken from Benjamin's room. The size and style differed from his own enough that it made it easier to get into character, as it were. He also wore his facial hair in a moustache and goatee combination, rather than the sideburns he favoured. As he waited to be announced in Arendelle Castle's throne room, he mused that already he was putting on weight, and would have to have a new set of clothes made to accommodate the width of his chest and swell of muscle that he currently lacked. While he looked forward to the return of strength and his more natural appearance, it would certainly seem odd to his hosts. Or, God willing, new family.

"Prince Benjamin of the Southern Isles," a man's voice called, and the double doors before him swung open.

He walked forward, not bothering to project confidence as Hans would have. Benjamin was honest and careful, pleasant but reserved. He drew on his painful memories and tried to mimic them.

Queen Elsa stood before her throne, curious then apprehensive. Her platinum hair was pulled back into a chiffon with some braiding over the crown of her head. He noted that she wore an elegant but more casual summer dress of purple and blue, not an ice creation of her own.

Anna stood of to the side, an outraged gasp issuing from her mouth when he had halfway crossed the room.

He stopped a few paces before the Queen and bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, a pleasure to meet you," he said. He bowed to Anna as well, greeting, "And you, Your Highness."

Elsa peered at him, no doubt wondering if he was who he said he was.

Anna was not so pensive. "Don't you 'Your Highness' me! I know that's you, Hans, you haven't changed a bit," she accused, stepping off the raised platform to stalk towards him.

He raised his hands as though surrendering. "My father had feared that you would feel this way. Prince Hans and I were identical twins," he said apologetically, offering a helpless shrug that didn't feel very princely but felt quite Benjamin.

His former fiancée wasn't having it. She opened her mouth to attack him again, but her sister intervened.

"Anna," she warned softly. "Where is Hans now?" she directed at him.

He shook his head sadly. "Dead. He passed away in prison, not long ago. A tragic end to a tragic life. He could have done so much, yet..." he trailed off.

"I see," the Queen said, deliberating. She ran her eyes over him, not appreciatively as women had oft done at the Southern Isles court, but like she was trying to find a crack in his façade. "Well, there's no sense in sending you back straight away. Someone will show you to you room," she announced, gesturing for a footman to come forward.

As he passed Anna, she hissed, "It's going to take more than a beard and diet to trick me." He threw her a look carefully balanced between shock, consternation and upset.


	3. A Meeting in the Library

A few weeks later, Hans was roaming the dusty shelves of the library storeroom, where less popular books that didn't fit on the extensive shelves of the library itself were stored. He didn't really have a particular read in mind, and doubted he'd find much here to capture his interest; there was a reason they were relegated to a gloomy room off to the side.

Rounding another shelf, he stopped short, the sound of his boots alerting the other occupant of the room to his presence. Queen Elsa lounged in an armchair constructed of ornately swirling ice, packed with snow. At odds with her usual poise and formality, she lay across the beautiful piece of furniture, her legs dangling off one arm. There was a large, dull-looking tome open on her lap, but one hand was held aloft, fingers dancing and making magic and small snow flurries fly around her delicate fingers. The blue glow of magic faded as soon as she noticed him, the ice dissipating.

He bowed. "Your Majesty. Forgive me, I did not mean to interrupt your solitude. Your ability is fascinating - beautiful," he said with a grin.

She stared at him for a moment, looking distinctly guilty at having being caught. She looked around the dim space uncomfortably, before laughing. "Prince Benjamin, not at all. To tell you the truth, it's not exactly the desire for solitude that brought me here, just avoiding Anna. She's determined to throw a ball for my upcoming birthday, but I really don't think..." she trailed off with a sigh.

Suddenly, something occurred to her. "Sorry, I'm being rude. You may join me if you wish," she exclaimed, and with a wave of her pale hand, another chair appeared, this one looking distinctly more solid, with carved lions standing guard at each corner.

As he admired the craftsmanship, she misinterpreted his delay as hesitance.

"It won't melt as long as I'm nearby," she assured him. "Oh, but don't let me keep you if you're otherwise occupied..."

He gave her a dazzling smile. "Of course not. I've simply never seen such a wonder before," he complimented as he seated himself. While the sentiment was genuine, it was easy to forget that the words were not. He had seen the palace she had created overnight, the massive storms she had amassed and dissipated in moments. The Queen was the same powerful beauty she had been then, but Hans felt like a different person.

Queen Elsa watched him with her head cocked to the side, and he returned her gaze with a bashful smile, wishing he could will a blush to complete the effect.

"So, what is Your Majesty reading, so entrancing as it must be to distract you from planning your own ball?" he teased, diverting his gaze to the tome in question, whether to emulate the prince or in flirtation was no longer crystal clear in his own mind.

"It's, um, on the fascinating subject of..." she hefted the book half-shut to consult the cover, "The Differing Use of the Horseshoe in Middle-Age Arendelle and Associated Lands," she read.

"Fascinating," he said drily, before remembering to act more reserved. "Though perhaps the subject has simply been beyond my own grasp. Please, don't allow me to disparage your enjoyment of such stimulating historical exploration," he added, again with a decidedly suggestive lilt that he paid no mind.

The queen evidently picked up on it, parrying rather than interpreting it as grovelling and letting it drop. "If I ever find this stimulating, check my pulse," she scoffed, closing the creaking leather and heaving it gently to sit on the floor. Fed up with the musty thing she may be, but she still paid a book the respect it deserved, Hans noted with pleasure.

"Is that permission to touch the royal person?" he grinned.

She got to her feet with a flourish and hint of a smile, strolling away from him into the shelves. "I suppose it is," she threw over her shoulder.

Surprised but enthused by this playful side of the striking blonde, the prince jumped to his feet to follow when the door banged open.

Anna stood, legs apart in a firm stance and arms crossed. "Have you seen Elsa?" she demanded.

Hans was about to try to sidestep the question, but she cut him off.

"Seeing as there are two new chairs in here, that look an awful lot like they're made completely from ice, I'm going to guess that you have," she said sharply.

A muffled giggle came from farther into the room, and Anna charged in, chasing her shrieking sister around the bookshelves. A streak of blonde made it out the door, pausing to wink at him and disperse her creations. With a cry, the younger sister chased after her, leaving the foreign prince alone with the swirling dust motes.


	4. Agreement

Kristoff gritted his teeth, holding his breath as he forced the burst of strength required to at last slam his opponent's hand against the table with a loud thud and rattle of the stone chess pieces that had been pushed aside.

"Aha! I told you, Ben. You could be five times bigger than when you arrived; you still couldn't beat an ice harvester in an arm wrestling match," Anna crowed.

The red-headed prince leant back in his chair. He was about as brawny as usual, freed from prison and starvation more than four months ago. A few of his clothes had been altered to fit his well-muscled form, but most of his attire was now Arendelle-made. The seamstresses had been very accommodating, drawing on the clothes he had brought from the Southern Isles for cut where it might differ from the Arendellian style. The fabric, predictably, was somewhat heavier, though not uncomfortable.

The blond rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "It wasn't easy to beat you," he hedged. "I'm sure if you get that huge you'll beat me no worries."

Benjamin - for he thought of himself as Benjamin now - laughed. "Not unbeatable then?" he teased.

"You're right," Anna exclaimed. "I think I could give you a wrestle for your money."

Benjamin laughed again as Anna pushed him eagerly out of his chair and planted her dainty arm at the ready.

Much to the surprise of the men, Anna put up a Hell of a fight, squealing and flailing as she resisted Kristoff's strength. Despite the incredibly inefficient attempt, the princess was gaining the upper hand, slowly but surely.

"Are you letting her win?" Benjamin asked incredulously when Kristoff was less than a hand span from defeat.

Red in the face, he gasped out, "Does it look like I'm letting her win?"

A moment later, their clasped hands collided with the table, almost upsetting it and eliciting a triumphant cry from the princess and an amazed cheer from Benjamin.

"What's all this commotion?" Elsa asked amusedly as she entered the room, raising her voice over the raucous laughter and conversation that seemed excessive for three people, especially when two of them were royalty and meant to be much more reserved and refined than their antics made them appear.

"The princess has revealed herself to possess far more brute strength than either of us were expecting," Benjamin explained mildly, straightening from his position leaning on the seated man's shoulder.

Elsa laughed gently, before turning a little more serious. "Prince Benjamin, might I have a word with you before dinner? Privately?" she asked quietly, leaning towards him and pinning him with her big, blue eyes that he sometimes imagined to have a gravitational pull of their own.

"Of course," he smiled, bowing slightly and following her out of the room. Being behind her as they walked, he was free to admire her thick platinum hair worn in a braid down her back, as was common when there was less a call for formality, and the grey and light blue dress she wore, tight on the bodice and sleeves but flared slightly from the hips. She was beautiful, as ever, but from the set of her shoulders and her gait, he suspected she was worried about something.

He wondered, as they came to a stop outside her office and she motioned him in without meeting his gaze, why he needed to talk to him privately and why it was making her tense. He was sure it was getting chillier in here. A problem with Arendelle's affairs? Surely she would invite him to a council meeting rather than discuss it privately if his advice was needed. Queen Elsa certainly knew his position and achievements back in the Isles – or rather, those of the other Benjamin – and he was well qualified to advise on the running of a kingdom. A sickening thought struck – what if she knew? Had he done anything in the past few days that identified himself as Prince Hans, something to tip her off? He knew that the concentration he put into his performance waned as he grew more comfortable with his hosts, the staff, and Arendelle's subjects. He had even gotten rid of the moustache and beard he had hated so, after a quiet word with the sisters explaining that he had grown it to look less like his brother for convenience, and after his death would like to be rid of them if the added resemblance would not be too disturbing. He regretted that now.

Elsa had slowly made her way to sit opposite him, on the other side of the desk, touching and fiddling with a number of objects on the way. She fixed him with an intense gaze and he tried not to let panic get the best of him, to hide his fearful thoughts.

"Prince Benjamin," she began at last, eyes dropping to the polished wood before her and shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "You've been with us some time, and I must say, Arendelle seems to have suited you very well so far. Apart from your remarkable physical… change," she said with a glance at his chest and a blush, "I have noticed a significant increase in your confidence."

Hans cleared his throat. "Well, I'm sure anyone seems more confident when in familiar company, or in better health. And I can't remember being in better health in my life," he grinned. "But yes, I think the time spent here has been time very well spent. But then, perhaps the chance to be parted from my brothers could have come in any form."

Hans strode around the place, making witty remarks and clever manoeuvers without reference to Benjamin's reserve anymore. He only hoped the transition had been gradual enough not to rouse suspicion.

Elsa gave a tight smile at that, but bit her lip and squirmed a little. "I mean to write to you father," she murmured, and he noticed her breath cloud before as she uttered the words. Frost climbed up the window pane, and he fought a shiver.

"As you well know, Their Majesties your mother and father have offered you as a husband to me, deeming it a good match with regards to relations between our realms and your potential to aid me in running the kingdom. My reservations, I hope, were understandable, but I think you have proven yourself to be genuine and honourable," she said, looking nervous but now addressing him rather than the desk or thin air over his shoulder. Ice crept along the edge of the surface between them, betraying her anxiety, but neither of them paid it any mind. Minor events such as this were common and easily reigned in if she had a mind to.

She cleared her throat and drew herself up to her full height while seated. "So, with your consent, I mean to write to the Southern Isles, accepting the proposal, and we may be married in spring," she concluded, a blush across her cheekbones as she held his eyes across the desk.

This was certainly not what he had been expecting, but he was delighted to hear it. A joyful grin spread across his face of its own volition. "It will be my honour, Queen Elsa. I shall be very glad to stay here, where I have grown so fond of the people, both outside the castle and within it," he declared, earning a relieved smile from Elsa. Had she thought he would ask to be allowed to return home?

He stood and walked to kneel next to her chair, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. He kissed it softly, before placing it on his chest and holding it over his heart. Gazing deeply into her wide eyes, he said in a low voice, "It will be an honour for you to be my queen in every sense."


	5. Announcement

The moment was almost surreal. He stood, waiting to be announced, with the arm the formidable Snow Queen laced gently through his own. They were about to walk into the Ballroom of Arendelle Castle, entering the ball that celebrated the announcement of their engagement, settled with the Isles' monarchy not three weeks ago.

He'd recommended that only one of his brothers be invited as a representative of the Southern Isles, so only Prince Gustav was in attendance. He was the perfect choice, really. Genuine enough – either not corrupt or sufficiently restrained in his dubious dealings – and not malicious, he had always been on civil terms with the younger sons. He had the added appeal of having only recently retired from a career in the navy, so he had had comparatively little contact with the identical twins over the years to learn to tell them apart with enough certainty to refute Hans' claim to be his brother.

"Her Royal Majesty Queen Elsa of Arendelle, and her fiancé His Royal Highness Prince Benjamin of the Southern Isles," boomed the voice of a herald as the doors were pulled open.

He felt his fiancée's grip tighten slightly as they walked together into the room, all its occupants falling silent and bowing to her, to them, as one.

"Thank you all for coming to help us celebrate our engagement. The forthcoming union is sure to bring prosperity and harmony to Arendelle and the region, and of course personal felicity to the families involved," Elsa addressed the room, her voice steady and confident as they stood on the throne platform. She dipped her head gracefully, acknowledging their guests and the end of her brief speech. After that, dignitaries and aristocrats surged forward to offer their congratulations in person.

 **I I I**

When they had a moment to themselves, the prince leant closer so that he would not be overheard. "Would you like to dance, Your Majesty?" he murmured. "I fear if we don't take to the dancefloor we may be forced to endure congratulations until the wedding day itself."

Elsa pursed her lips nervously, eyeing him, then nodded. "Alright, just the one. And I warn you, I'm not much of a dancer. It's hard to learn when you're afraid to touch anyone. Well, I have read books on the subject, several with excellent diagrams…" she trailed off uncomfortably.

He led her onto the floor by the hand, but pulled her close when the new song began. At first she watched her shoes mostly, but he pulled her closer, claiming it would be easier to feel where he was leading her and harder to see their feet. The more she relaxed the more her natural grace began to show itself. The feel of her body against his, her hands – sheathed in thin gloves for formality's sake – holding him to her and the warm smile with which she favoured him made him wish this dance could last forever. In all honesty, he was surprised at the feelings it stirred in him. When he had first come to Arendelle, he had felt mostly miserable remorse towards both sisters, but he had come to be good friends with them and his one-day brother-in-law.


	6. Reprieve

"Good night, Ben," Anna yawned, stretching as she walked out of the library.

"Until tomorrow, bright and early," Benjamin joked, laughing when he heard the princess groan as the door swung shut behind her. Final preparations for the wedding were underway, which meant plenty of early rises for the entire household, which was the one aspect of the event-planning process to which Anna was never amenable.

Alone, he turned his attention back to the book he read by firelight. Most of the candles in the room had been snuffed out, so the small area by the fire was cosy in its low, flickering light.

The warm stillness of the richly furnished room was stirred when the door creaked open, breaking Benjamin's focus on the words before him. His head snapped up to look at the newcomer.

"I thought you might still be here," Elsa smiled, her smooth voice belonging in the atmosphere, making everything softer than before.

The yellow light played on her alabaster skin, casting little shadows at the hollow of her throat, in the gently swishing folds of her silk dress, on her angelic face. She floated across the room and folded herself onto the settee beside him.

"What are you reading?" she asked quietly, leaning in to look at the open pages sitting on his lap.

He flipped the book half-closed to show the cover. "An account of some of Arendelle's greatest naval manoeuvres. I maintain a healthy interest in maritime developments, but the personal accounts and entries make for an interesting narrative besides," he mused. Flipping back to the page he had been reading, he let his eyes trace over the lines of text without really processing the words. The vast majority of his focus was on his bride-to-be, her shoulder and chest just barely brushing against his arm.

"I see. Perhaps I should read it myself. Though I've had so much to do and so many papers to approve lately that I don't think I'll pick up a book for weeks unless I'm made to," she sighed ruefully. She tilted her head to offer him a sweet smile, and he returned it.

He admired her dedication to her responsibilities, her work ethic so unbending that it never even occurred to her that shirking a task was an option. Yet she bore it all with grace and happiness. She was truly more than anyone could deserve, but he was thankful she chose to keep him around nonetheless.

"I could read to you, if you like," he offered cheekily, hardly expecting her to accept the suggestion.

She laughed, then waved her hand in an airy 'go ahead' motion. "A happy solution. But please, don't start over on my account," she giggled.

"If you insist, Queen Elsa," he replied.

"I do. But surely, just 'Elsa' will do," she added a little shyly. He was already on first-name basis with Anna and Kristoff, and had been for weeks, but this felt far more significant.

He gave a dazzling smile and, emboldened, shifted to sit with one arm stretched out along the back of the cushion behind her head. Not wanting to push her, he turned to the book and began reading from the top of the page.

As his low, smooth voice filled the room, she edged closer until she was tucked into his side, head resting on his chest.

He read to her for the better part of an hour, she increasingly sleepily snuggled up to him, until he reached the end of the section. He let the book fall shut, and brought the arm wrapped around her waist up to shake her shoulder gently.

"Elsa, it's late, we should both retire," he whispered. He couldn't see her face, but she shook her head and pressed it farther into him. He laughed and tried again to coax her awake.

Eventually she roused herself enough to complain. "I'm too tired and far too comfortable to be walking back to my rooms now," she grumbled.

"What if I carried you?" he countered.

She gave a little shrug and a disbelieving huff, but didn't move.

He took that as consent, and set the book aside. Swiftly pulling her into his now vacant lap, he deftly swept her into his arms and started across the room.

She let out a gasp and clung to his shoulders, but didn't demand to be put down, so was carried out of the library, through the empty hall and up the stairs. She relaxed and nestled back into him with a yawn as he headed for the wing with their rooms.

They didn't speak until he stopped at her doors. He looked down to make sure she was awake enough to stand. She opened her eyes and met his gaze blearily.

"Thank you, Benjamin," she whispered. He grinned at the use of his Christian name.

"My pleasure, Elsa," he responded just as quietly. He set her gently on the ground, his hands lingering as he let her go.

She reached up and placed a feather-light kiss to his cheek. "I love you," she breathed against his skin, almost inaudibly despite the proximity to his ear.

She drew back and stood flat on the floor again, but he didn't let her go far. He bent down and caressed her cheek with his own lips, trailing his mouth to her ear. "And I love you, though I know I shall never be worthy of your attention. Good night, Elsa," he breathed fervently. He had seldom been so honestly vulnerable in his entire life, and yet he was unafraid in that instant.

He felt her cerulean gaze on his back as he strode to his own room, and the weight was both daunting and exciting.

He was in love. But he was _loved_.

He sat on the side of his bed and stared at the floor between his boots. He stayed there for some time, ruminating on the twisted path that had lead him here. He had wondered, once, whether the world somehow demanded payment. He had tried to deprive Anna of a beloved sibling, and he lost his own adored brother in recompense. But then what of this? Was it reward for suffering over the years? A prize for seeking redemption? Or had his impersonation of his brother been so complete as to fool Fate itself?

He didn't know how his actions could have led him here, but he resolved to make the most of it for as long as the universe allowed.

 _(A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's read this, especially people who commented. A proper review is amazing but I value even the smallest sign of approval. I've got one more chapter in store, after which I'll probably only write more if people make suggestions for what they'd like to see. So feel free to throw out ideas in the reviews!)_


	7. Revealed

He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked much the same as he ever had; red hair, green eyes, muscular build, smattering of freckles. Yet he was different, he knew he was.

A disgraced and disowned prince, an imposter and welcomed guest, now a married man. Taking on the mantle of his brother had allowed him to grow into that role. Everything that he was now, he owed to Benjamin. The other Benjamin. He hoped that, in a bizarre way, he was doing his brother proud and honouring his memory.

He stood in his new room, where a nondescript door led into Elsa's. Most of his ornamental garb that he'd warn for the ceremony had been stripped off, leaving him in britches, boots and an untied shirt.

He took a deep breath and turned away from his image. Striding to the door, he opened it gently and went through.

Elsa's chamber was decorated in deep blues and purples with robust patterns and embroidery. The furnishings, gilt frames and delicate carpentry were lovely, but he sought something far more beautiful and he looked over the room.

Perched on a chaise longue with a book open in her lap – though her worried gaze was fixed on some random point on the wall – was his bride. Her gown for the celebrations, with its traditionally lavish decorations and ice additions, was gone, replaced with a simple blue nightdress. Her long braid, secured at the end with a ribbon, snaked over her shoulder. Even totally without adornment, there was something regal in her air, as she sat with her back straight and chin up.

The noise he made by the door made her eyes snap to him. She tried to keep her face calm, but he could sense her trepidation. They understood each other, he and she, like few did. They both had things they couldn't or wouldn't say, but there was a genuine connection, a silent meeting of the minds that went beyond their affection.

He gave her a soft smile, and slowly closed the door behind him. He knew the expectations of him, of them, as did she. Nevertheless, it was a nerve-wracking thing. He would never have her frightened of him or what she thought he might do, though.

He approached her casually, calmly, until he reached the chaise where she sat. She watched him closely, wide eyes trying to give away nothing but dissect his movements. He placed himself beside her, almost as far as the bench seat would allow. Comfortably close for a conversation, but not intrusive.

One leg over the other, hands relaxed in his lap, he gave her a smile.

"What are you reading?" he asked pleasantly.

She blinked at him, then the book. "Uh… German poetry anthology," she replied, having to check before answering.

He let out a quiet laugh. "And are you enjoying it?" he queried.

"Well, I only just started it," she said, biting her lip.

"You appear to be halfway through," he pointed out with a teasing smirk and a gesture to the book, open to approximately the middle page.

Her face twisted in playful annoyance. "Well, in that case, I'm enjoying it immensely, thank you for asking," she sniffed.

He laughed and made a grab for the book, which she snatched from within his reach, holding it away. She giggled and gasped when he slid closer and lunged for it. He leant across her, his longer arms giving him the advantage.

"Didn't anyone tell you that it's rude to snatch, and from a lady?" she complained breathlessly as he got a grip on the book.

Grinning, he brought his focus from the book they held aloft to her face right below his. His eyes flicked down to her rosy lips, and that was apparently all the encouragement she needed.

She leant forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, which gradually built into something lustful and fervent. Benjamin slid a hand up her warm ribcage and heard a dull thud as the book landed on the luxurious carpet before Elsa's arms came up to embrace him. She was soft and warm and pulling him closer with a hand on the back of his neck.

He broke away to press loving kisses down her throat, eliciting a happy sigh and a little frost in his hair. He didn't mind or stop to acknowledge it, and neither did she.

They continued their increasingly passionate embrace for some time, caresses and sighs and the dull ticking of a clock somewhere the secret soundtrack of the bedchamber. A shift of his legs where they tangled with hers as they lay on the chaise earnt a tiny moan from the queen, something instinctive neither of them really knew to look for. Benjamin felt like it was important, though, and smoothly got to his feet, lifting her into the air. She gave a squeak but immediately relaxed into him, tangling her fingers in his hair. He placed her on the bed and resumed his place above her.

Her hand slid down to his waistband, and up under his loose shirt. He shivered as her fingertips ghosted up his abdomen, from the cold or her touch itself, it didn't matter. Maybe they were one and the same, in a way.

His lips returned to the side of her neck, messily travelling down as his hand echoed his path, massaging down her side, bunching the fabric there.

"Benjamin," she gasped.

He faltered.

Benjamin.

He had responded to that name a hundred times since he'd come here, told a hundred lies. Told _her_ a hundred lies. Queen Elsa, the Snow Queen. Queen Elsa, the woman who owned his heart, unconditionally. But he held hers under a pretence.

He had managed to swallow the bitter taste the façade left in his mouth up until this point, even through his marriage vows. Her vows to love him until death do them part. Him, or Benjamin. Not both, never both. Not Hans. Death had already parted each of them and the man she was meant to marry.

But he was here now. He wasn't the same man who had come so long ago, brandishing his charm and his sword with equal deadliness. Yet, somehow, this private, intimate moment seemed some kind of threshold. Could he truly commit to this, all based on a lie?

But could he tell the truth?

He resumed his attentions, quickly and amorously enough that Elsa made no complaint.

No, he couldn't betray her like that, rip the rug out from under her feet in such a way. She would be disgusted, heartbroken to hear that he was in fact Hans, the thirteenth prince.

But he already had betrayed her. That's all he'd done since he got here. And this, final act, meant there was no going back.

He abruptly sat back on his heels, extricating himself from her hold gently but insistently.

She lay, panting and confused, looking up at him. Her wide blue eyes held love and concern, lust and self-consciousness. No censure. She was far too generous to direct such a thing at him… without good reason.

Slowly, she sat up. She placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on the side of his face.

"Benjamin? What's the matter?" she queried softly.

He flinched at the use of his name. He forced his eyes, which were locked on the hands that lay limp on his lap, to meet hers at her urging.

"What is it?" she asked, searching his face.

"I…" he started weakly, but his voice quailed. He took a shaking breath and tried again. "I can't do it, Elsa. I've done some awful things already, but this is too much…"

She looked completely confused. "Ben, what are you talking about?" she pressed.

"I've lied to you. And I'm sorry. So sorry for everything, for what little it's worth. I want to say I regret it, too, but even knowing what I've done… The time I've spent with you has been the happiest of my life," he said. His thoughts were disorganised and his explanation jumbled, but he was putting off the inevitable.

"What are you saying? What have you done?" she asked, a little bit of that cool, iron majesty in her expression. When he just stared at her, chest heaving, she prodded, "Benjamin?"

"Hans," he blurted. "The real Benjamin is dead."

Dead silence, a blank expression. The churning of guilt in his stomach. The harsh ticking of the unseen clock.

"I should have listened to Anna," she said, her voice like ice.

"Yes. But I never should have agreed to come," he said morosely.

"Agreed?" she repeated sharply. "So your father knows?"

Hans shifted uncomfortably. He had sworn loyalty to Elsa and her realm, and so his first duty was to her now, despite everything.

"Yes. Benjamin died in a horse-riding accident a few days before he was to leave for Arendelle. They offered me a chance for… redemption," he explained.

"After you tried to murder me," she snapped.

"Yes. I didn't want to kill you for the fun of it; it seemed the only way to end the blizzard. But I was cruel to Anna, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wanted the throne. I'm not sure someone as who has behaved as I have can ever be redeemed, but I know they can be regretful. I'm more sorry than I can say," he said, the impassioned words flowing once he started speaking.

Elsa stared at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, then stood and swept across the room. Without looking at him, she asked, "Where were you before you came here?"

"A cell. Imprisoned after the trial. That's why I was so thin when I arrived. Benjamin was always far thinner than me. Sickly, even," he answered, barely above a whisper.

"And why now? Why suddenly develop a conscience?" she demanded.

She had every right to be furious, he knew. But it still hurt to have her so disgusted with him. He shrugged helplessly.

"I can't expect you to believe me, but I've wanted to tell you for a long time. I could have gotten away with it forever, maybe, but at what cost? It was eating me up. I do love you, though I know I have no right," he said earnestly.

She whirled on him, shock and outrage dancing across her features. He noticed it was snowing lightly in the room, little hills of the stuff gathering on the polished floor and the carpets.

Dropping gracefully into an armchair, she pressed her fingers to her temples, then cast a look over him, evaluating.

"The question is, what are we to do now?" she sighed. "I can't just announce the truth, it'll raise too many questions, be an embarrassment. Not to mention how Anna and Kristoff would take it. But it's too late to send you back… And if I can't trust you…"

Her voice turned shaky, like she might cry, but she stood with purpose and approached him solemnly. With an artful sweep of her hand, she conjured a beautiful sword. It was a remarkably faithful rendering of the sort carried by the Royal Guard.

His heart nearly stopped right then. Did she really mean to kill him in cold blood? Elsa was determined and dedicated, but this was something else.

"Elsa, wait…" he started. He wanted to beg for his life, but realised it wasn't worth it. He wasn't all bad, but he wasn't good enough. He'd put her in an impossible position, and he owed it to her to do as she wished. Fear and desolation washed over him, but he would do the right thing for once.

"It'll look awfully suspicious if you kill me with that and then make it disappear. The last thing a monarch needs is blood on their hands," he said. "I should go out the window."

She stopped her advance, blindsided. Advice on his own murder was clearly the last thing she expected. "What?"

"I'm good with politics. And I'm telling you, it'll be easier to pass it off as a tragedy. Much less doubt cast on you with no disappearing ice weapon, and no need to hunt down a crazed killer who somehow sneaked into the room and murdered me then escaped before your eyes. A fall out a window is more plausible," he reasoned. He felt ill, but hid it behind a businesslike façade.

"How do I get you out the window?" she asked, still incredulous.

"I'll jump," he shrugged.

"You'll _jump_?" she hissed.

He swallowed thickly. "If you ask me to. I owe a debt I can never repay, and I love you too much to make things any worse. I'll jump," he repeated.

The sword disappeared into a burst of little snowflakes, which floated upwards and flickered out of existence before they reached the gilded ceiling.

"Do it then," she said, voice barely a whisper.

He swallowed, blinked, and got to his feet. He marched over to the window, ghosted by his gobsmacked wife. Soon to be widow.

Squaring his shoulders, he swung it open. He could only just make out the paved courtyard below in the moonlight. His breath came hard and fast, like his body was desperate to get as many in before he hit the ground.

Calling on the naval training to which he'd half-applied himself, he propelled himself into the task at hand without any more deliberation or ceremony. He stepped right up to the sill and tipped forward.

Just before his feet left the floor and he began the plunge, she grabbed his arm. He leant back a little and turned to look down at her pale face.

"You'd really do it?" she whispered tearfully.

He nodded.

"Because you love me? Because you feel guilty?" she asked.

"Yes," he croaked.

"You've changed since you were first here," she said, pulling him away from the window and placing a hand on his cheek. Her eyes drilled into his as though she were looking for anything that would refute her conclusion.

"I think you are redeemed," she breathed, stroking the side of his face.

Her words knocked the wind out of him, but as they sunk in he grinned. She laughed wetly and pulled him down to kiss her.

It was the same as before, yet different. Thrilling, passionate, glorious as ever. Yet it was the first one to be totally honest and free. Hans was liberated.

He was passionate and considered. Demanding and generous. Searching and contented. Guilty and absolved.

Hans and Benjamin. He was both.


	8. Reconciled

Waking up was like slowly floating to the surface of a lake, calmly but steadily drifting up to meet once more with the real world. His pervading impression, at first, was that he was comfortable. He was warm and snug, and dim but buttery light was beginning to invade his eyelids.

The comforting weight was not only that of the bedclothes, but a slight body leaning on his chest. A cool fingertip traced lazy swirls on his bare skin, leaving a slight chill behind as it danced over his heart.

Letting out a contented sigh, he tightened his arms around her slightly but left his eyes closed.

Elsa tapped her finger against his chest gently, a silent cue for a little more conscious attention, but he just hummed sleepily. He was normally out of bed with the sun and a spring in his step, but he was so comfortable he couldn't muster the enthusiasm for committing to wakefulness just yet.

A good-natured huff was followed by a murmured good morning and a kiss to his jaw. This was enough to rouse him. Rolling them over gently, he brushed his lips against her skin just below her ear and began working his way down at a leisurely pace.

"Good morning, my darling wife," he said against her skin, his first words of the day still husky with sleep.

She arched her neck a little to allow him access, and her fingers tangled themselves loosely in his thick hair. "Mm, we need to talk," she said distractedly.

He hummed in agreement but continued on his little journey, admiring the view of his wife in the dimness. Her soft, almost translucently pale skin took on a pearlescent aspect in the low light. She was beautiful enough during the day, but uncovered in their bed she was a goddess.

"Do we _really_?" he protested.

She sighed, guiding his face up to kiss him gently, then fixed him with a serious look.

"You know we do," she said.

He gazed down at her serious face for another long moment, then rolled off to lie beside her. Both of them stared up at the decorated ceiling.

"Hans…" she said, the name sounding strange on her tongue. She normally addressed him with affection or humour or something secret in her tone, but this was… blank. At least it had shed the distaste and quiet resentment he had heard in it whenever she said it before.

"You're not really Benjamin. We need to decide what we're going to do about all this," she forced out.

"Am I not?" he countered quietly. "True, it is not the name I was born with. Had you known my brother who went by that name, you would remark that there are clear differences in our nature and manner. But am I not _your_ Benjamin? That's all I could ever manage. In casting off the mantle of Hans, I've become something else. In following my dearest brother's path, I have been given a chance to become something _good_. And I've done my best to take that opportunity. To be what my brother believed I could be. To be… Benjamin."

She turned her head to stare at him. "Then why did you tell me the truth? If you thought it didn't make a difference?" she challenged.

"Because… I love you, and I want you to love me for the truth of me. Who I really am. Knowing my struggles and victories, as I love you. You couldn't do that completely unless you knew. Moreover, I couldn't keep something from you that you would wish to know. I don't ever want to lie to you, Elsa," he said.

She brought a hand up to rest on his cheek, meeting his sincere gaze.

"Well alright then. I suppose there's not all that much to be done, in the end. We cannot make any of this public knowledge, it would be a scandal, not to mention the effect on our citizens. Many of them adored you after your leadership after my coronation disaster, and it was messy explaining the truth of things. To go back the other way… No. We leave it," she resolved, and he nodded. "But the question remains regarding Anna and Kristoff. I don't want to lie to them."

He caught her hand and held it in his lap, resting against the softness of the quilt. He played with her fingers while he tried to work out the best path forward.

"Neither do I. But it's a bit late for that. What's done is done, and in view of that, we have to decide what's best. For my part, I've never wanted to take the coward's option, and if it were only Kristoff, I'd come clean. But we can't tell one and not the other, and as much as I love her, Anna is not the most… level-headed of people. I'm not sure she'd be willing to hear me out, and I doubt she'd ever get over what she'd view as a second betrayal," he reasoned.

Elsa hummed, telling him he was listening but not totally in agreement.

"In this second life, I am fortunate to have your love and her friendship. To force her to see me as I was and look past it seems almost… unkind. I've done enough to upset her already," he said resolutely. "Ultimately, I suppose, it's up to you. But I think it's best if only you and I know."

Having found his ground to stand, he finally looked up at her face. She gave him a measured look, then nodded.

"I've learnt my lesson. I'm never going to shut her out again. But in truth… you are our Benjamin. That's who you've chosen to be, and that's enough," she said.

He beamed at her, leaning forward to kiss her again. Their touches quickly grew more animated, and they lay back on the disorderly sheets as they prepared to while away the first morning as a married couple.


End file.
